Pieces on the Table
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: It's stag night for Sherlock and John. While they are busy having sex in the loo, Greg and Mycroft decide to reveal their own relationship.


"Look at you, mate! The blushing bride," Greg laughed.

The DI had amused himself, but Sherlock was anything but. "I am not a blushing bride, Lestrade."

Greg dissolved into laughter once more. "I didn't mean that. You two have probably shagged at The Yard, for Chrissakes."

"You should know," Sherlock shot back. "your desk was a prime location."

Now it was John's turn to blush. "Sherlock."

The DI dropped his head to the table. "I really didn't need to know that." He was glad when John excused himself to the loo. He was even more ecstatic when Sherlock followed him. He sat back up and looked at Mycroft. He really was a handsome man, though not in the conventional sense.

The government official smiled back at him. "You're not nearly as drunk as you let on, Gregory. We both know you have a much higher tolerance for alcohol than that." He was admiring the DI.

"Well, you can't blame a bloke." He tipped his head towards the loo, indicating the two men that had left. "At least this way, I can feign ignorance the next time we're all at my office together. Pretend I forgot all about the sex on my desk bit, yeah?"

Mycroft smiled archly, picturing taking Lestrade on his own desk at the Yard. "I presume it's just the prospect of John and Sherlock having sex on your desk that's a problem." He hoped so, fervently.

"Well," the DI took a long pull on his pint, "If you're offering, I could be persuaded." He looked back towards the loo. "Do you reckon they've figured it out? Us, I mean."

The government official glared balefully at his own pint. He would have much preferred Scotch, but that would have rather ruined the spirit of the whole 'stag night' thing. "I'm rather certain my brother has figured it out. John, at least, is still oblivious."

Greg nodded at that. It seemed everyone but Sherlock was oblivious to his relationship with Mycroft. He supposed it was a good thing, as they had worked hard to keep it that way. Still, it rankled. He wanted to lean over and close the distance between them, snog his lover senseless right here in the middle of this crowded pub. Maybe after a few more pints, he would do it, and to bloody hell with the consequences. He was proud of Mycroft. He wanted to show him off.

Just as that thought ran through his mind, Mycroft took the initiative and dove in for a kiss. It wasn't a reserved kiss, but passionate, full of tongue and lips and teeth. The DI was so caught off guard that he failed, at first, to respond. When he did, it was with great enthusiasm. The kiss broke and they separated. Greg found he was grinning madly. Mycroft looked like the cat who got the cream.

"So... Does this mean we're through with the cloak and dagger stuff?" Greg sounded hopeful. Please let them be through with it.

"I do believe we can dispense with the 'cloak and dagger stuff', as you put it." Mycroft twisted the ring on his finger then tapped it against his mug. He smiled at Greg.

"Not just with Sherlock and John, but everyone. Work. All of it."

Mycroft's eyebrow rose. "I believe I already indicated as such," he said dryly, then broke into a grin.

Greg laughed, lifted his pint and drained it. "Well, fuck me." He laughed. The DI really hadn't expected to ever get to this point.

"What, right here, right now?"

The government official's eyes were twinkling and Greg, once again, wondered how many people had ever seen this side of Mycroft. Did Sherlock know this side of his brother? Surely he did. Everyone thought Mycroft was so cold, an unfeeling automaton. The DI knew better than that. The man could be playful and caring. His wit could cut, but it was never turned on Greg.

"Nooo," the DI drawled, looking towards the loo. "But maybe when they get back?"

"Really, Gregory. I refuse to have sex in a loo. Let alone one being christened by John and my brother as we speak."

The DI blushed. "You mean..."

Mycroft looked a bit like Sherlock as he rolled his eyes and said, "Obviously."

The door to the loo opened and the two grooms came out, hand in hand. They looked entirely too pleased and... sated. Greg groaned. Before he could drop his head to the table, Mycroft pulled him close and kissed him again.

Sherlock tried to pull out of John's hand and bellowed, "Oh, no, Mycroft! Not on our stag night! You'll put me off the idea of sex just before our honeymoon."

The doctor shut his mad genius up with a kiss. Between them, the four of them were putting on quite the display. None of them could be arsed to care.

"Sit," John ordered his fiancé, pulling him along to sit beside him. "Tell them you're happy for them, Sherlock."

The detective pouted, grabbed John's beer and drank it. He set the glass down, hard. "I'm sure I'm very happy for you both."

"Yes, you are," John said pointedly. "And so am I." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and gave it a squeeze. The detective leaned close and whispered something into John's ear. Luckily his mouth was empty or he would most definitely have choaked. "Sherlock!" The younger Holmes sat back looking smug.

Greg shook his head. "I don't want to know."

"My brother just told John about the incident in the limousine," Mycroft stated blandly.

The doctor looked embarrassed for Greg.

Sherlock snorted. "And brother dear told Lestrade about the loo."

The DI looked embarrassed for John.

The two Holmes brothers just looked smug.

The doctor broke out into a lopsided grin. "Holmses. You can't live with them..."

"You can't kill them," he and Greg finished together.


End file.
